


Pink

by Gearsmoke



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: M/M, PWP, the kinky stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 03:44:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5952445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gearsmoke/pseuds/Gearsmoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some might call them 'trophies'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pink

Two in the morning.

He’d been having that dream again. The cruel hands, the laughter, the face so like a mirror of his own, watching it happen with cold disgust… He shuddered, cold and sweaty, and only calmed down when he groped across the bed in the darkness, finding the comfort of another, larger human being.

His bedmate awoke to gentle shaking and his name, quietly spoken in the dark: "Nate’n?"

The huge, burly, brutal frontman of the world’s most successful Metal band grunted and opened his eyes to look at his lover, still groggy and disoriented at being nudged out of sleep at this ungodly hour. "Whuh?"

"Can’t sleep… Y’got … anything?" Pickles stroked Nathan’s arm.

"Bottom drawer." The singer hunched further under his blanket and tried to go back to sleep, only dimly registering the shift in the mattress when Pickles got up.

Crossing the room, the drummer turned on one of the lights, in response to which he heard a noise of protest and the shuffling of a body turning over. Pickles knelt down by the heavy wooden dresser, running his hands under the layers of clean fabric in search of…What? His fingers encountered something oddly soft… silky… that was weird. Oh, but there’s what he was looking for. The little black stash box.

Nathan wasn’t the type to do a lot of drugs, he was more of a beer guy, so there wasn’t much in the box. A foil packet of mediocre weed, a small vial of that bitter green powder they’d brought back from Brazil, and a couple of prescription bottles: GABA and Valium. Pickles made a mental note to ask about those later as he uncapped the latter and swallowed a couple of the tranquilizers, calming almost immediately: a psychosomatic reaction to the simple act of taking the pills.

Climbing back into the gigantic bed, finding his warm spot next to Nathan, Pickles found it easier to slip back into sleep… but something nagged at his mind. A curiosity that wouldn’t be shaken.

~*~

The morning had come and lapsed into afternoon by the time he woke up again, Nathan had already showered and gone, leaving the smell of his conditioner wafting on warm, humid air. Pickles stretched out languidly, testing the stiffness in his back and legs. He was always a little tender the morning after that kind of exertion. Nathan did his best to be gentle, but he tended to get carried away, and the man was _big._ There were just some things that couldn’t be worked around. As far as Pickles was concerned, it was more than worth it, he’d never felt so good in his life.

The drummer rolled up to a sitting position on the edge of the bed and pushed himself to his feet. He scanned the floor for his clothing as he toddled into the shower for a well-needed wash, his mind flashing over the previous night as he stood under the flow of water. He remembered waking up, shivering and unhappy, but not why... the dream was gone. He’d been rifling through Nathan’s clothing, the warm piney smell of his lover’s preferred brand of detergent… and then… he remembered touching something, wanting to see it. What was it?

After toweling himself off and dressing, Pickles returned to where he last recalled that curious feeling. He stood, looking at Nathan’s dresser. He’d already been given permission to go into it, so it wasn’t like he was really _snooping_ … Crouching on his heels, he pulled the drawer open and pulled the clothing aside… where was it? Black fabric drew back to expose a shock of pale blue. Pickles pulled the item out and looked at it.

Panties. Blue cotton boy-shorts with lace hems. And definitely not Nathan’s size. Well, it wasn’t a surprise that some of the many women to cross the singer’s bed left souvenirs… Although Pickles found it kind of interesting how many Nathan had kept. There was a collection of perhaps a dozen pairs tucked into the back of the drawer, all different colours, fabrics and sizes. The drummer pulled out a pair of pink high-cuts, expensive silk with satin bows and frills. He was pretty sure this was the pair he’d touched last night. There was something about the _feel_ of them, the glide of the sheer fabric that triggered a buried memory, a flicker of something that had been good, a long time ago. 

He looked over his shoulder for a guilty moment before allowing himself a little male perversion. But when he sniffed at the soft lingerie, he could only smell Nathan’s detergent. They’d been washed… OK, that was odd… Suddenly nervous, Pickles put everything back the way he’d found it …Almost. On impulse he pocketed the pink silk, his heart racing with adrenaline as he made his way back to his own bedroom. 

Locking his door behind him, he sat down to examine his stolen prize. He ran his fingertips over them, the sensually smooth texture of the fabric, bringing it up to brush against his lips and shivering with how delicious it felt. Nathan would probably be angry if he found out… but he could just put them back later… or maybe… He hid the scrap of satin and silk, excited and nervous by what he’d done… what he was thinking of doing.

~*~

Three days later.

He slipped away after practice, back to his room, to where he’d hidden the item he’d been thinking about, off and on, since he’d stolen it. He unfolded the little frilly thing, bringing his feet up to slip the delicate garment up over his thighs. It wasn’t a perfect fit, but he loved how they felt, and Pickles had to pose in front of his mirror to take in the full effect. The bulge in front pulled the silk tight across his ass, and he slid his hands over it, moaning at himself in a mimicry of seduction… oh, this was going to be fun.

The entertainment room, which was still undergoing the final stages of reconstruction, was a full house when Pickles showed up. Not only was the rest of his band present, but Charles had decided to make an effort to be more ‘approachable’ and was sitting adjacent to the big couch, while Murderface babbled at him about a new merchandise idea. In the background, a half dozen Klokateers were working as quietly as possible, trying to install the new hot tub without bothering their masters. 

Dethklok’s two guitarists were still (more or less) getting along. Skwisgaar had saved Toki’s life, which the Swede had discovered to be a double-edged blade. While he could lord over the younger man, Toki had always had an odd infatuation with the lead guitarist, and that had suddenly transformed into a full-fledged guy-crush. Skwisgaar figured it would be more tolerable if he actively taught the Norwegian, so they’d been practicing together more often, and even now, the Swede’s fingers were caressing his Explorer’s strings, while Toki watched and tried to match his pace.

Nathan looked up when Pickles came to sit between him and Toki, noticing the flash of a shit-eating grin on the drummer’s face. He couldn’t help but feel a tug in his gut, but he said nothing, refocusing on the television, which was showing a particularly horrific flaming car wreck, something worthy of watching. 

Toki smiled, "Hi Pickle! How’s you?" 

"Great, Toki. Doin’ great. Yer getting’ real inta practice lately, deat’s good."

"T’anks you! I tries hard. Wants to be more goods, even if Is not de best. Is okay justs to be real good." He didn’t look, but he knew Skwisgaar would be smirking. Little triumphs. 

Pickles chuckled amicably. He liked this, the way things were going now. It had been hard getting here, but everyone he cared about seemed to be in a good place right now. He relaxed back into the new couch. 

Every once in a while, out of the corner of his eye, he’d notice Nathan looking at him. Pickles was pretty sure he knew what the singer was thinking, and just to tease, he shifted slightly in his seat, getting just the tiniest bit closer to the big guy, and feeling the silky slide of his pretty secret against his skin. Every movement made the fabric rub sensuously inside his jeans, against his body, even the walk from his room had been deliciously erotic. He shivered, realizing he might have made a huge mistake. He’d managed to keep himself under control since slipping the panties on, but now, with his lover looking at him, he found himself getting uncontrollably aroused.

__

Oh God, what’s he doing? Nathan did his best to ignore the drummer, but he was acutely aware of the smaller man, of the way he’d suddenly shivered, his lips turning a deeper pink. He watched the television without hearing anything, his mind completely occupied by the redhead’s half-lidded eyes and the way he was biting his lip… The singer grunted and pushed himself forward to grab an open bag of sour cream and onion chips off the coffee table. Salty snacks were always a good distraction, and a good excuse to get up and go somewhere else. "M’gonna get something to drink."

Of course, the drummer’s eyes lit up at that last word, "Ooh, yeah!" He jumped to his feet as Nathan headed out, then stopped dead, hunching as if in shock. Oh yeah, he’d forgotten about those. And the tent he was pitching because of them.

And it hadn’t gone unnoticed. He cringed at the blond guitarist’s laughter, "Hey Pickle, you really likes to drink huh?" Skwisgaar grinned at him, this was going to be joke fodder for _weeks_. Even worse now that the rest of the band was aware of what was funny.

"Jeesch, Picklesch!" The bassist snorted, "Could you be lessch happy to schee usch?"

"Gahd, just… shut up, awreet!?" He shot a glare around the room, daring anyone to laugh. _Anyone_. 

Toki started snickering and got an instant smack in the head. "Oww! Hey! Don’ts hit me!"

So much for peace at Mordhaus. Pickles pressed his palm to his red face as he hurried away, leaving the three string players laughing. 

Charles, who’d watched this all happen, and had to fight to keep from smiling, just sighed to himself and shook his head.

~*~

If for a second Pickles thought he’d be safe once he got away from the entertainment room, he was wrong. Nathan pounced the drummer as soon as he set foot in the refrigerated liquor vault, finding himself pressed up against the freezing wall, both hands held over his head in an iron grip.

"What was that back there?" The frontman grinned sadistically, nudging his thigh between the other man’s legs until he was riding it. "You get off on being a tease in front of the guys?"

Pickles whimpered and squirmed, his skin ached from the cold, but his face felt flushed and hot. "Hnn! …Mebby?"

"Am I so hot you get a boner just from sitting next to me?" Nathan purred, pressing himself up against his bandmate, grinding his thigh into Pickles lewdly until the drummer cried out and pushed back into him, 

"Fffffuck yes!" The redhead moaned, any other words cut short by the impatient crush of his bandmate’s firm lips. He couldn’t resist Nathan, moaning softly as he rocked his hips on the larger man’s leg, making the silk under his jeans rub against his erection until he was panting from the whirlwind of sensation.

"D-don’t be mad at me, Nate…" He gasped out.

"I’m not mad, I’m just going to take you to my room and… uh, well you know."

Pickles nodded, then yelped as he was hauled over Nathan’s shoulder like a ragdoll. "Nnh… Nate, ya brute!" He grumbled at the indignity, and the painful way his hard-on was pressing into the big guy’s muscled chest. But there was nothing for it, he was getting carried. Not like it was the first time, the burly singer had taken him back to his own room on occasions where he’d gotten too drunk to walk. Even if they had encountered someone, this was nothing new.

Except this time, he was taken back to Nathan’s room, and tossed down onto the singer’s bed, squeaking as he bounced into the nest of pillows and sheets. Looking up at the imposing male poised above him, holding him down, Pickles grinned slyly and tried to sound cute, "You might still be mad… I did something naughty."

Nathan purred, "If you tell me, I might forgive you." 

An edge of apprehension crept into the drummer’s voice, which he tried to hide, "I found your collection of lady panties."

A blink, "Oh? … Yeah, so?"

"Would you… be mad if I touched them?" _Please don’t be… don’t’ be_.

The reaction wasn’t angry, just surprised. "Um. Well, they’re… I guess not. Why? Were you playing with them?"

Pickles leant close and murmured softly, "I’m … wearing a pair."

That certainly made Nathan pause. "…Seriously?"

"Yeah."

Another long silent moment passed, the lack of discernable emotion on the frontman’s face was making Pickles nervous. He shuddered with relief when he was given a curt order, "Let me see."

Willing to obey, the dreadlocked musician slid off the bed and kicked his shoes off, pulling his shirt over his head slow and teasing while Nathan sat up to watch. He turned, facing away from his audience, and actually heard the intake of breath when he let his jeans fall, exposing the wedge of bright pink stretched taught across his round, toned ass. 

If Nathan had thought his drummer’s body looked girlish before… _holy shit!_ He’d been surprised, and slightly irritated when Pickles had told him about this, it wasn’t that he was overly possessive or attached to the little collection, but they were _his_ , and he liked to be asked before someone took his things… And now, seeing how well they fit the little redhead, how the colour accentuated his dappled skin, Nathan forgave everything.

Pickles stepped out of his jeans and approached Nathan, hips swaying hypnotically. He climbed up onto the bigger man with a huge, wicked smile, snaking one hand down between the singer’s legs to caress the obvious bulge. "I guess yer not too pissed off, huh?"

"Well, I might be, um, a little, but you could, like, make it up to me."

Grinning, the drummer leant close to kiss Nathan’s jaw, undoing his fly and working into his briefs to free the object of his desire, working his fingers over the magnificent male organ until he drew a blissful moan from its owner.

"Yeah, like that…" Nathan’s hands stroked over Pickles’ back, sliding down until he felt those sexy high-cuts over his lover’s ass, squeezing through them and getting a lust-filled whimpering groan in response. He let his fingers trail back up the drummer’s body as his bandmate slid down, leaving a path of small, hot kisses to his groin.

Pickles worshipped as only someone who truly loves to give head can. He craved every inch of Nathan’s body, the smell and taste of his skin, the predatory shift of muscles under taut toned ivory skin, the cascading fall of raven hair… and that beautiful length of male flesh to lick and suck and stroke. He loved to hear his counterpart’s throaty cries of bliss, feel the muscles flex at the base of his cock, the surety that he was doing a good job was almost overwhelmingly gratifying.

Nathan, however, wasn’t going to be so easily satisfied. He took hold of a fistful of the drummer’s dreadlocks and gently pulled Pickles off. He growled a command, "Stay." Making sure the other man understood before he released his grip on those red ropes and started ridding himself of his own clothing. Pickles remained on his hands and knees, but dared to creep forward and nuzzle the big vocalist. Nathan couldn’t help but grin, throwing his shirt over the side of the bed, shucking his jeans, then his briefs, and then stroking both hands over the smooth bowed back presented to him.

A husky whisper, "Turn around." Nathan’s hands followed the movement of Pickles’ body as he did as he was told, caressing the contours of the smaller man’s hips and thighs, stroking between them, over the redhead’s rigid silk-sheathed cock and the softer roundness of his balls. Catching his fingers in the waistband of those indecently form-fitting little panties, Nathan slowly worked them down the drummer’s thighs, leaning in to kiss the faint line of indentation left by elastic against a fair hip, earning a low gasp and shiver in reward. 

Nathan freed the silky thing from Pickles’ legs and held it up for inspection. "You’ve gotten these all wet." He mock-scolded, and swatted his bandmate’s now-bare rump.

"Hnn! I’m sarry… Mmmn." The lazy, horny tone wasn’t very convincing, and he arched his rump toward the slap, inviting another. "Anh!"

"You kinky little fucker." Nathan scooted across to the edge of the bed to fetch lube, and flashed his companion an evil grin before tossing him the bottle. "Better make yourself ready for me." He settled back against the headboard to watch, making sure Pickles could see him stroking himself lazily.

That was more than enough incentive, and Pickles grinned right back, getting his fingers good and slick and arching his back to give the other man the best possible view. Being with Nathan meant he didn’t have to do nearly as much work to loosen himself up, but preparation was still necessary, and in both their opinions, fucking hot. Nathan never got tired of seeing this, the way his beautiful drummer bowed his head, eyes closed and teeth clenched as he pushed his fingers into himself one at a time. And then the rapturous expression of pleasure when his muscles relaxed and he found that one spot that made his entire body jerk and tingle when stroked.

Forcing himself to stop, Pickles groaned and shivered as he slid his fingers free of his body, looking back over his shoulder with half-lidded, lust glazed eyes. "Nate’n, fuck me… Please." His voice so soft and raw, vulnerable and, to Nathan, irresistible. Pickles braced himself, feeling the heat rolling off his companion’s skin as Nathan moved to take him, tilting his hips back and whining as the big guy teased him horribly, stroking the head of his prick shallowly between the drummer’s cheeks.

"Nnnnate! C’maahhnnn!"

"God, you’re such a slut." Amusement in the singer’s growling voice as he lined up and pushed in. _Oh god, that’s it… still so tight!_ Pickles squirmed and thrust back impatiently, crying out in a way that was somehow both obnoxious and incredibly sexy. Well, if he’s going to be like _that_ … Nathan gripped the smaller man’s hips, drawing back as far as possible, then driving back in hard enough to make the little guy howl. Repeating the deep, rough stroke until the redhead was reduced to a whimpering, sobbing mess, dreads trailing across the sheets as he let himself be fucked into oblivion.

"Ahh! _Ahhnnh!_ Nate! Gahd dammit fucking… Gah! Shit!" For all his complaining, Pickles was still grinding back into the abuse, flushed and sweaty, his prick hard and bobbing with each forward shove.

"Rrngh… You love it. Tell me you love it." Nathan switched to a shorter, faster stroke, beating a bruise in the shape of his hipbones against his bandmate’s upturned rump.

"I do… I unh! I love when ya fu-uhhck me!" He arched and moaned, then cried out again when Nathan bit down gently on his shoulder, pressing his teeth into delicate freckled skin just hard enough to hurt. He slumped down onto his elbows, grinning stupidly as he floated on waves of endorphins and bliss. "Harder, baby! Yeah!"

Harder happened, deeper too, until Nathan was gasping and glistening with sweat, his skin flushing into goosebumps, waves of tingling cool running up his back with each rough thrust. He thrilled to the other musician’s vocal cries, ragged notes only an experienced singer could hold, wordlessly begging for release. 

Nathan slid a hand under the smaller man’s chest, supporting him. It took only a moment for the intent to sink in, and Pickles groaned in gratitude as he wrapped his still lube-slick fingers around his aching cock, squeezing and stroking to the rhythm of Nathan’s thrusts. He didn’t stand a chance, and soon the drummer was bucking and screaming as he streaked the sheets with his hot fluid.

Nathan growled, biting down again, just a little harder, holding onto the warm, shaking body beneath him, riding out the other’s peak. Loving the way Pickles’ internal muscles tightened and spasmed around his cock, driving it in hard and deep until he felt the little redhead go limp in his arms. He finally let the rush overtake him then, rising suddenly and unbelievably good "G-ungh! Pickles!" Nathan tensed and ground his hips forward, tossing his head back like a wild thing, his inky mane flying as his climax hit, dragging a primal snarl from his lips.

Pickles could feel the hot surge of his lover’s powerful orgasm and he shuddered in hazy ecstasy with each spasm, squirming slowly against the singer’s bucking thighs, reveling in being so filled, his entire body buzzing from the afterglow of his own incredible climax. He whimpered as Nathan pulled free of him, protesting the loss of warmth and completion.

Sighing, Nathan pulled a comforter up around himself, and pulled Pickles into his arms under it, tucking him against the curve of his belly. The little guy always got kind of needy after sex, but it felt nice to be wanted so much, to lay there holding his bandmate, as if he could protect his best friend against the world by doing so.

The moment lingered, where there was no pain, no anger or sadness, just the tingling glow of the body drug working its will. 

Nathan nuzzled into Pickles’ hair and murmured near his ear, "You’re going to wash those panties, and you’re going put them back where you found them."

"…Kay."

"And then I’m gonna take you to buy some of your own."

A little snort. "…Kay."


End file.
